The Elf-night
by Cariea Cogan
Summary: Hard to explain without sounding cliche. An Elf crosses paths with the remaining Fellowship. In progress.
1. The Council of the Missing

I shouldn't be doing this. Its blasphemy. LOTR is like a religon. I don't pursume to be a good writer at all, I was just really bored. I think too much. LOTR belongs to Prof. Tolkien, with all due respect (ie bow to him as a god as I do). Origional characters are mine, and what can i say, I coulnd't help myself. Deal with it. Critisim very welcome--I wanna know what you think. 

The Elf-night   
Prelude: Council of the Missing  
by Cariea Cogan 

     The Council of Elrond had ened and most of those who had participated had left the chamber. Elrond was sitting in the middle of the room. Gandalf, Aragorn, Elrohir and Elladan were seated before him on carved wooden seats. Arwen brought in a tray of goblets and a pitcher of wine. She poured a cup for each person and each took a drink. She then sat on chair next to her brothers.  
     "Brief this shall be, for little discussion is needed about it. We have decided what is to be done about the ring, but one more topic is needed to be discussed," Elrond said. "I think you know what it is I speak of. My sons, have you any news?"  
     Elledan shook his head. "No, we have seen nothing in our recent search."  
     Elrond then looked at Gandalf sternly, for he knew that the wizard was concealing something about his imprisionment at Isengard. He realized that Gandalf may have every reason to do so, but all needed to be revealed. "Gandalf, did you see anything of _her_ while you were Isengard?" Elrond questioned. Her name was not needed, for she was on all of the minds in the room.  
     Gandalf dropped his head and his voice became pained. "Once." At this Arwen gasped and put her hand over her eyes. Gandalf continued, "She was walking where the trees had once been at the base of the tower of Orthanc," his voice grew incressingly grim, "and I daresay speaking to the Orcs in their awful tongue. I tried but found I could not call to her and then she vanished into the tower."  
     Elrond sighed heavily. "We must be prepared to assume she is allied with Saruman and therefore Sauron as well."  
     "She cannot be," Elledan said. "She is one of us."  
     "You said you saw her moving _freely_ about Isengard? That rules out her being prisoner, so she must be willingly staying there. I, too, want to believe she is not under the Dark Lord's power, but it seems that she is." Elrond stood up from his seat. "So fallen is the dear girl. A great ally she would be if t'were not so."  
     "She must be spying," Gandalf said, holding his hand out. "She simply could not--"  
     "Gandalf, I know how much you wish it were not so, but it is. I too desperatly wish it were otherwise, for she is like a daughter to myself. But we must be realistic and concentrate on other things right now. Try to for now. More imparitive things are at hand," Elrond said gently and then sat down.  
     There was a moment of silence and then Aragorn stood up. "She will outgrow the yoke Saruman has over her," he said confidently. "She is greater than he is. You know that." He looked among everyone.  
     "Yes, she will, I know that forsooth, but will she 'fore the wave hits the shore?" asked Arwen. Her voice was dejected and she looked hopeless.  
     Elrond rose from his chair. "That is of no use to debate. For now we must concentrate on the Ring: it is our focus now. Retire now and rest, for tomorrow the company shall depart. Aragorn, Gandalf, you must rest."  
     And so they all rose and departed the room, save for Elrond and Gandalf. Elrond walked to the window and stared to the South. He did not notice Gandalf's presence.  
     "What trouble this child of yours has caused us, Celebêl," Elrond said. "You knew that this was comming, Elrond, these things you sense."  
     He then became aware that Gandalf was still sitting in his chair. "Not like this. Dear she is to me," he said. "And this ordeal pains me as well, but we must focus on other things."  
     "Yes, I know," Gandalf said and stood up. "Seeing her there made it too real. I wonder if she knew that I was watching her?"  
     Elrond placed his hand on Gandalf's shoulder. "Go and rest."   
     Gandalf walked from the room and Elrond turned back to the window. "Your light seems to fade, Edheldú," he said. 


	2. Rider of the White Hand

The Elf-night   
Part 1: Rider of the White Hand  
Cariea Cogan 

    Legolas shielded his eyes with his long hand and stood tall on the crest of the hill. "There is a rider in black... Being pursued by Orcs. Two dozen, perhaps. Strange, the rider has the mark of the White hand, and so do the Orcs."     Aragorn stood next to Legolas and strained his eyes. He could only see the figures moving vaguely across the fields. "Why would Orcs pursue one of their own?"     The rider was swift, but the Orcs were just as swift. He was cloaked in all black. Suddenly, he wheeled around and headed toward where the three were camped. He drew out a long, silver blade and about a league away from them, turned and face his pursuers. There was hoarse and unpleasant yelling. The Orcs halted and raised their weapons high.     "Any enemy of Saruman's minions would be a potential ally," said Legolas.     "And who is to say what those Orc would do to us after they are finished with the Rider?" said Gimli.     Aragorn agreed and the trio drew their weapons and ran toward the scene.  
    

The rider was yelling in the orc's harsh tongue as they approached. He sprung with amazing skill from the horse and cried out in what sounded like an Elvish tongue, however over the Orcs, none could understand it. He was clad completely in black and no face could be seen. His silver sword was gleaming even in the dim sunlight.     Skillfully the rider began to fight with the Orcs and he easily fell one after another. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli joined the fray. Dispute their growing fatigue, they managed to be quite helpful to the rider.  
     Only half a dozen Orcs remained when suddenly the rider let out a shriek that made all, even the Orcs, pause. The rider gripped his arm and screamed again. Aragorn turned around in time to see the rider behead a grinning Orc. The rider then turned and seemed to be sobbing deeply. Seemingly injured, he began to flee, running toward his horse. The company slew the last five Orcs standing and then turned to the rider, who was struggling onto his horse.     "Hold, dark rider," Aragorn cried. The rider paid him no heed, but suddenly, just as he was upon the saddle, he fell limp to the ground.     None of the three approached the fallen rider; they were confused as to what they should do. He had no apparent grave wounds, only a cut somewhat minor on the left arm could be seen. The rider moaned and spoke. "Ai, to The West I go now," he said in Elvish. The voice was soft and thoughtful.     At these words, Aragorn sprung beside him, knelt and removed the rider's hood. He gasped and touched the rider's face, which was that of a fair Elven woman with deep black hair. "Mithwen," he gasped.     Legolas and Gimli stood shocked at the rider's identity. "You know her?" Legolas asked.     "She is an old friend, for some time now we have not known where she has been," Aragorn replied. "Take the horse and lead it back to the camp," he ordered. He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it on the wound. He then lifted the woman up and began to hurry toward their camp. 

Aragorn laid the woman down by the fire and from his bag removed some herbs. "You've been poisoned," he murmured as he looked at the cut on her arm. He sprinkled some of the herbs into his waterskin and rinsed the cut frugally with the potion. The woman moaned and her forehead began to sweat. He then lifted her head up and poured some into her mouth. "Drink, Mithwen, and the poison will be purged from you," he said. She complied and drank all of the water eagerly.     Legolas tied the horse up next to the their own. He caressed the horse's face and spoke to him softly. He and Gimli then went to gather dry wood for the fire at Aragorn's bidding. Aragorn was still cradling the woman and speaking to her softly when they returned. They stoked the fire and then turned to him.  
     "Is there anything that we can do?" Legolas asked, looking over the woman's pale face.     "What manner of poison they used on her I cannot tell, so at this point, no. Just keep the fire going as best you can, she seems to be shivering," Aragorn replied. He took off his cloak and put it under her head.     The woman began to stir and her eyes opened slowly. She was looking straight ahead of her in Legolas' direction. She moaned in pain. "L-Loth...lórien?" she managed to say upon seeing Legolas.     "No, Lady Mithwen," Aragorn said.  
     She turned her head slowly and looked at Aragorn. Her face became confused but then happy. "Oh, oh, Estel! I am... in Im...ladris?"     "No," he said. "You are on the borders of Fangorn. You were poisoned by an Orc blade."     As if a she suddenly remembered a horrible trail, her face grew grim. "Oh, Estel, t-he things I've seen. The things... I've done... Oh, oh, Estel," she said this with greater ease, as though she were awakening slowly. She clutched his arm and burrowed her head into his chest. He placed his hand upon her head and held her.     "You need to rest now," he said. He laid her head back onto his rolled up cloak. "I've given you some medicine. You'll be all well soon. Rest."  
     Legolas removed his own cloak and draped it over her. Her eyes smiled weakly at him. She mumbled and closed her eyes. Aragorn placed his hand on her brow then got up and sat on the opposite side of the fire. He sighed and thoughtfully stared into the flames. 

"Who is she?" Gimli asked him.     Aragorn thought for a moment. "She is called Mithwen by a few, however to most she is Gwyndoléna Gandán of Rivendell. A cousin of Elrond. I've known her since I was a child; something of a sister she was to me."     Legolas' eyes flashed with recognition. "Ah, yes, of her I have heard. Elrond sent messages to my father asking if she had been seen in Mirkwood some time ago. Do you know why she was pursued by Orcs?" Legolas asked.     Aragorn shook his head, and seemed to be weighing something in his mind. "She... For a long time now she has been missing. When last she was heard from she was apprenticed to Saruman to learn the art of the Wizards--and that was a very long time ago."     "I had heard she was missing. But I do not understand: the art of the Wizards? She is just an Elf," Legolas said.     Aragorn's voice grew low as though Gwyndoléna was still awake and she was not to hear what he said. "Her mother is an Elf, her father of a more ancient race. Her father sent her to Saruman to learn their arts--but already I may have said too much." In an even lower voice he said, "Speak nothing of Wizards."  
     When morning came, Gwyndoléna opened her eyes slowly. It was gray and unpleasant out. The sun was clouded over and light drizzle was falling. Her left arm burned and her head felt light. She slowly sat up.  
     Facing away from her, gazing into the East, was a tall, blond Elven man. She'd seen him the night before; he had laid his cloak over her. To her left was the edge of the woods, and a dwarf who was sharpening an axe. And across a smoldering fire from her was a Man who was deep in thought.     She propped herself up with her weak arms as best she could. "Estel!" she called to him with a hoarse voice.     "Gwyndoléna!" Aragorn lifted his head and sprung to her side.     She sat up uneasily and gripped his shoulder. "I thought that I was dreaming when I saw you before. I was not was I? Am I now?"     "No," he said. He smiled at her. He felt a great weight on his heart had been lifted, for he'd finally found her. "I'm glad you see you've awakened. Tell me, how do you feel?"     "My arm burns, but t'otherwise I feel well. What has happened? Where are we? Oh, and who are they?" She gestured to Legolas and Gimli.     "We are on the edge of Fangorn. They are Legolas of Mirkwood and Gimli Glóin's son," Aragorn said. Gwyndoléna looked with kind eyes on Legolas but with cold eyes on Gimli. "You were poisoned by Orcs, do you not remember?"     She thought for a moment. "Aye, I do. I was running from them--He sent them to kill me for my treason. He won't rest until I'm dead or under his thumb again."  
     "Who do you mean, Saruman?" Aragorn asked.     She nodded. "Aye. Only was it four days ago that I ran from Isengard. For the past two days I have alluded the Uruk-hai. If they found me, it means I made a mistake. Not my first. How did you even find me? I mean, what are you doing out here?"     "We're traveling, and some Orcs kidnapped two of our company and we've tracked them here. We were making camp for the night here when Legolas spotted you riding," Aragorn replied.     "Oh, I see. Oh, Windrunner? How fares my horse?"     Legolas said, "I have watched over him and he is well."     Gwyndoléna's eyes smiled. "My thanks, Greenleaf."     Aragorn drew a _lembas_ from his pocket. "Here, eat this," he said.     "I have not eaten in two days.." she said. Her eyes grew wide when she realized what she was holding. "_Lembas_? You've been to Lothlórien?"     "We were in Lothlórien only a while ago. Celeborn and Galadriel have been worried about you, as has Elrond and those of his house," Aragorn said.     "I do not doubt it. Messages I sent weeks ago to Lothlórien to be taken from there to Rivendell... they must not have reached. How fare they all?"     "Celeborn and Galadriel? They are well, as always. Elrond and his house... their moods are not able to be interperated, as always."  
     "Of course. So, Legolas of Mirkwood, yes?" She pointed to Legolas. "The King's son? Aye, I remember. Once did I meet your father," she said. "And Gimli son of Glóin? Hrm, dwarfs. Of them I try to know as little as possible."  
     Gimli began to growl and steeped forward, but Aragorn held his hand out and Legolas grabbed his shoulder to stop him.     Aragorn put his hand on her shoulder. "Tell me, Gwyndoléna, for it is not as though I do not trust you, but these days are strange. Are you still allied with Saruman?" Aragorn demanded.     "No, my dear Estel. After what he did to Gandalf I could never be loyal."  
     Aragorn nodded slowly. "Then why did you run from Isengard? What prompted you to betray Saruman, to whom you had obviously pledged loyalty?"     "What he did to Gandalf! He imprisoned him, and nearly killed him, I should think, for I found this." She removed a scrap of grey cloth from her breast pocket. "This piece of cloth is from his cloak, I know for sure. Its been torn, and frayed; there was a struggle. I found it on the floor of the room where Saruman keeps his seeing stone." She handed the scrap of grey cloth to Aragorn, who fondled it very gingerly. "When I found it I remembered my dearest Gandalf, for I had truly _forgotten_ him under Saruman's influence. I realized what Saruman was doing, and what I myself was doing. Oh, Estel, the things I've done! I asked one of the servants if Saruman had kept any prisoners, and he said, 'There was an elderly man some time ago, but he escaped somehow.' I knew it was he. And so I avoided Saruman the next day, for he was busy in his caverns with the Orcs.     "The next night I fled from Isengard under the cover of dark, dressed as an errand rider in this cloak, bearing his symbol. When he saw I was gone, he must have sent those Orcs for me. I assumed he would, but to send them to poison me? He must have truly been bent on not letting me join the opposition. I realize now just how terrible I had become while I served him. I stood idly as he ripped the trees from the earth. I stood idly as he bred a hideous race of creatures." She put her head in her hands. Aragorn's face grew thoughtful and he looked upon the woman with great sympathy--for more than one reason.     Gwyndoléna then looked to Aragorn. "Tell me, have you news of Gandalf?" she asked. Aragorn could not hide the grief that played about his face at the question. "Estel," she demanded, "what has happened? You cannot hide your feelings, I see well enough your feelings on your face."     Aragorn took her hand. "We have traveled very long from Rivendell, from your cousin's home. Since the fall in fact we've been traveling. We were delayed by a storm in the Misty Mountains. Speed being a necessity, we had to go under the mountains instead of over. While we traveled through Moria we encountered a Balrog and gallantly did Gandalf fall into the Abyss of Kazad-dûm to save the rest of our party," answered Aragorn as gently as he could.     For what to her seemed like a lifetime, Gwyndoléna sat with her eyes closed tightly. Her whole body trembled. "Alas, oh my father Gandalf!" she cried and threw her arms up. Her eyes were welling with tears and she let out a rattling sob. "Oh, oh, fallen! How could he fall? Oh, Estel, how one so mighty could fall is beyond all wisdom! Were it you, Dwarf, that made them travel through that accused and deathly place?" She pointed at Gimli.     Aragorn seized her shoulders and said, "Nobly he died, as any of us would have eagerly for the same cause. It was no one's fault. Gandalf chose and none can be held accountable to that." 

Gwyndoléna shut her eyes and turned her head away. She then looked up with fierce eyes. "And just what is this cause which my father has died so gallantly for, Estel?"     "The destruction of the One Ring, Gwyndoléna," Aragorn said gently. Her eyes grew wide and she grabbed his arm.  
     "The One Ring!" she cried out with a voice that seemed otherworldly. For a moment, it seemed that her face was Gandalf's. "The things he told me of it, the powers that lie in it! What a world of greatness it would bring!" She threw her arms up. "How he thirsted for it. He has made me want it so much as well--and I know how terribly wrong I am to want it, but I do so desire it! I had a dream that with it I traveled to Valinor and saw my dear mother. W-which of you bears it?" she asked. It seemed that her voice dripped with longing and her face was greedy.     "It is no longer in our charge," Aragorn said.  
     Her face changed back to saddened and solemn. "I am glad," she said. "I would have become murderous for it. It has great power over even those who have never seen it." After a moment of silence, she said, "Saruman told me of the party bearing, but never who were in it, and I, being a good servant, helped him to conjure up a storm to drive that party from the pass on the Mountains. So it was my father and old friend who I were trying to kill." She dropped her gaze from the three.  
     There was a long silence and Gwyndoléna held her head low and cried. Aragorn held her hands and said nothing.  
     After some time Gwyndoléna wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and asked, "Has anything of the others of the order been seen?"     "Gandalf spoke of meeting Radagast by the Misty Mountains some time ago. Nothing of any other Wizards has been heard," Aragorn replied.     She shook her head and said, "Those fools. They came to this land with a purpose, and now they are nowhere to be found." She sighed heavily.     "What will you do now, my old friend?" he asked.     "I know not for sure, but I do know that now my only reason for being here is gone. No longer can I stay in Middle-earth," she said. Uneasily she stood up. Aragorn protested for she was still ill, but she would not abide him and he helped to steady her. "To Lothlórien and then to the Grey Havens--and to my mother and kindred departed before me!" She pointed a long index finger to the west over the trees.     "You cannot just leave Middle-earth," Aragorn said. "There is much that needs done still. And you have not been given leave."     "Perhaps not, so I give myself leave! I have earned being my own master. And what needs done, eh? Just what more should I stay here for?" Gwyndoléna asked, feigning anger.     Aragorn sighed. "I would think you would take up your father's mantle and finish what he has been working for. The Ring is not yet undone. Mordor threatens the whole of Middle-earth until it is so."     Gwyndoléna's face became creased with worry. "And when will it be so?"     "It is on route to Mordor so it can be cast into the pits of Mt. Doom."     "Who bears it thus?"     "Saruman did not say? Two hobbits of the Shire--"     "Hobbits? Who chose such bearers?" she cried, her voice fearful rather than scornful.     "Elrond and Gandalf."     She sighed heavily. "Great faith have I in my cousin Elrond's choices and my dear father. Much faith had my father in their kind and by him I did as well though never have only met one of their kind... But to bear such a thing to the place where it is wanted most and not to be seen... Sauron's eye reaches all, more than you can realize," she said slowly and solemnly. "It will not make it."     She sat down on her cloak and gazed at the smoldering embers of the fire. "Oh, Estel, what the world is coming to. I should have left with my mother to the West long ago."     Aragorn sat next to her. "No, you should not have--you could not have. Will you come with us to search for our companions? Once we have found them we will be going to gather armies to face off with Mordor."     "Who are your companions?"     "They are two kinsmen of the Hobbit who bears the Ring. They were taken prisoner by the Orcs bearing the Mark of the White Hand."     "Oh, yes, Saruman's orders to capture all Halflings. That I knew, but not why. I understand now. I," she paused for a long time. "I shall come with you, if you promise to accompany me to Isengard when the time is right and help me to enact a revenge upon Saruman for all he has done."     Aragorn bowed his head. "You have my sword, Lady Mithwen of Rivendell." She placed her hand on his head. She smiled softly upon him.  
     "And you shall have my bow," Legolas said, stepping forward and kneeling before her, "Lady of Rivendell."     Though not happy at the thought, Gimli said, "I too shall accompany you, for much debt I owe to Gandalf, and through you I shall repay it."     Gwyndoléna bowed her head to them, "Thank you."     "Now rest for a while, and we will start off," Aragorn said and stood up.     "Where are we looking?" she asked.     Aragorn pointed, "In the woods of Fangorn."     Gwyndoléna raised her eyebrow and her eyes glimmered, "That accused place? I will follow you as you have pledged to follow me, but Fangorn, Estel? It is dangerous."     "Yes, but much do we owe these Hobbits. We owe it to them to look. We'll clean up camp and then head in," he said. She caught the glimmer of a strange necklace under is cloak.     "Wait, Estel," she called to him. He looked back to her. "She's really done it, hasn't she? Bound herself to the curse of Man?" she asked with heavy scorn in her words.     "Yes. But it is her choice, no matter how much you want it to be yours, Mithwen," Aragorn replied. He turned away from her and began to shovel dirt onto the fire.  
     "Can you blame me? She is my Arwen, my Evenstar. I love you greatly, Aragorn, but _none_ are worth of her," she said. Aragorn paid her no mind.  
     Gwyndoléna handed Legolas his cloak and said, "My thanks, Greenleaf of Mirkwood." He bowed his head to her and walked away.  
    

In the light, Legolas and Gimli got a clear view of Gwyndoléna. She was tall and waif thin. She was graceful in her movements and silent. Her hair was a deep dark black with a certain sheen to it that Legolas and Gimli had never seen before. It reminded them of the darkness of a moonless night. It was long and the two forelocks were braided with silver beads like stars threaded in. Her face was thin and pale and her eyes were light grey and dull--most likely from the poison. Her face was awash with grief.  
     Gwyndoléna stood up and brushed the dirt off of her. Her arm burned and she could not use it without great discomfort. She examined her wound, which was nothing but a small cut, and tightened the bandage. She picked up her sword and drew it halfway out of its sheath. From where he sat sharpening his axe, Gimli looked at it with longing, for it was a beautiful as any a Dwarf had ever made. The hilt was adorned with grey and black stones and runes he did not recognize. He also saw with his keen eye that it was made of mithril.     "Lady Mithwen, I see your sword is made of true-silver," he said and walked toward her. "Who wrought it?"     She turned her back to him. "My uncle, Celeborn. It is called Mithel," she said simply and put it back into its sheath. Disappointed, Gimli walked back to sharpening his axe.  
     Gwyndoléna then put the sword on her belt. She picked up her cloak, which was faded black with the White Hand of Saruman on the breast. She stared at it, then wrapped herself in it. Her grief was heavy and tears streamed down her face, but she did not sob openly.     She then walked to her horse and spoke to him softly. She caressed his head and mane. She took a staff from the saddle where it was attached. It was a plain and pale with a small, nearly insignificant milky white stone at the top. A very small smile cracked at the corners of her mouth as she gripped it tightly. Gimli and Legolas were reminded of Gandalf's staff. Gwyndoléna then sat on the ground next to the single tree and began to sing soft, lamenting songs which Legolas told Gimli were about Gandalf and a woman named Celebêl.     After a few minutes, they were ready to depart. However, the horses, with the exception of Windrunner, would not suffer to be lead into the trees. They left the horses tied up; they would come back for them later. Then they went into the trees.  
     --  
Next part coming sometime. Maybe....


End file.
